


and the ships are left to rust

by Merideath



Series: into the woods [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Mermaids, The little mermaid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more.”<br/>― Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the ships are left to rust

**Author's Note:**

> a few days ago @nessismore made a lovely [’the little mermaid’ au graphic](http://nessismore.tumblr.com/post/142812889137/darcysteve-little-mermaid-au-where-steve-is-the), that sparked a memory. Forever and a day ago, or maybe sometime last year I blogged a post featuring a somewhat pornographic [merman sculpture](http://hifructose.com/2014/08/20/cameron-stalheims-sculptures-indulge-dark-fantasies/). I tagged it with something about needing fic of Steve as a merman (as you do), and @silvermorningglory was inspired to illustrate [mer!Steve and Darcy](http://silvermorningglory.tumblr.com/post/85614144258/because-when-typhoidmeri-mentioned-steve-as-a).  Her art got my fingers tapping at the keys, well, more slowly scribbling down two paragraphs before getting distracted by something shiny. Which circles around to V’s graphic and my obsession with fairy tales and writing aus. Anyway here is a little ficlet of Darcy and mer!Steve. 
> 
> Thank you jadziabear for the beta and aenaria for the enabling. 
> 
> ...
> 
> title from 'What the Water Gave Me' by Florence and the Machine

The storm comes up sudden, the tide pulling her further and further out to sea, until the land is lost between dark waves and darker skies. Saltwater fills her belly, replaces the air in her lungs. A handful of heartbeats pass as her vision fades to grey, and she sinks beneath the waves.

She wakes with a start, arms flailing uselessly. Her head is above the water, sweet air filling the space between her ribs. Strong arms are holding her tight.

She coughs the salt from her lungs, hands grasping smooth skin, that doesn't feel right. Something isn’t right. She was alone on the beach before she entered the water. There shouldn't have been anyone to save her.

She turns her head to look at the man, and it has to be/must be a man, with the muscular arms holding her above the waves. He’s beautiful, strong-jawed, eyes a brilliant blue, water-darkened hair plastered back away from his face. A silver torc sits on his collarbones, inscribed with symbols she cannot read and a star on each end.

"You saved me."

He doesn't answer, just cuts through the waves, bringing them closer to shore. It's not until the sand is beneath her toes, and a wave throws them up on the beach that she gets a good look at him. Really sees the man that saved her. He’s not really a man at all, not a human one anyway.

They lay side by side in the liminal space between Earth and sea. Waves wash against Darcy’s bare legs. Pebbles dig into her back, and sand burrows beneath her nails. Her body aches, and her mind struggles to put together the puzzle before her.

She can almost see the beach house from where they are. Darcy shivers and coughs up another mouthful of water and pushes the wet strands of her hair off her face. There is a sadness in his eyes, a sorrow that the tide could not erase. His hand reaches out and falls away before he touches her.

There are no scales like the paintings in fairy tale books, just sleek blue-grey flesh, pale on the underside, smooth muscles, sculpted by the water. The skin on his face and shoulders are decorated with freckles, little clusters of constellations to map out.

A brown belt circles his trim waist, a knife in a sheath and a cluster of small pouches hangs from it. Thin scars cross over his bare chest and more faint scars line either side of his throat.

He's beautiful and alien.

"Hey, hey," she says, crawling a little further up the beach, fingers clawing through the wet sand. It hurts in a good way. A way that screams of life, a counterpoint ache to her lungs. Her heart beats out a pattern lost in the crashing of frothy waves. “Thank you.”

He says nothing in return, though his lips part, the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Can’t you talk?” she asks.

" _Yes_ ," he says. The word seems to vibrate, a wave that washes clean through her. His mouth never opens.

"You saved me."

"Yes," he nods. He shifts his weight onto one arm and places his hand on her chest above her racing heart.

"Why?"

_"We can't always save ourselves.”_

“I could…,” Darcy says cutting off her own words. She wants to say that she could save herself, but this time, she’s not sure she could have won against the tide. “Thank you, for saving me from a watery grave. I promise next time I'll save myself.”

_“The water harbors many dangers. Drowning is only one."_

"Was...was that a pun?"

He shrugs one shoulder, eyes falling away to the sea. His lips twitch crookedly, flashing teeth white as bleached bone. Too sharp to be human. She'd clutch her red hood if she had one, but he is no wolf, and this is no fairy tale. He is no Ariel either, though pretty enough to be one of Poseidon's son.

The storm is still bubbling overhead, thunder rumbling in the distance, rain pelting her suddenly cold skin.

“Are you a mermaid?” Darcy asks, feeling warmer than she should in the pouring rain at the edge of the sea, covered in the clingy red material of her red bathing suit.

 _“Not a maid,_ ” he says. His mouth doesn't form the words, just ticks up at the corner.

“You know what I mean,” Darcy says, flicking her eyes over his long tapering tail, more dolphin than scaled fish. She coughs again, covering her mouth with the crook of her elbow.

 _“I belong to the sea, yes,_ ” he says, flicking the end of his tail in the waves. He flashes her another smile, close-lipped and warm, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Darcy feels it all the way to her toes.

His head jerks to the side, as if he’s listening to something she cannot hear. _“I must go...”_ he says, plucking a strand of her wet hair off her face.

“Darcy.”

 _“I must go, Darcy,_ ” he says, cupping her pale cheek. The webs between his fingers reach just beyond the second knuckle.

“Thank you,” Darcy says, tilts her head and presses her lips to his smooth palm. “Will I see you again?”

 _“We’ll see what the tide brings us,”_ he says turning back to the sea. Between one breath and the next, he slips back into the white-capped waves.

The end.


End file.
